Dead Bodies Everywhere
by onlytomriddle
Summary: ONESHOT, not a songfic. Do you dare read Johnny's fifthgrade English assignment? Tell me what grade he got on it in your review!


**Author's Note:** I wrote the first draft of this (the idea of a second draft on this sounds kinda funny once you're done reading this) quite a while before I figured that this would fit this section. Amazing. Well, not really... This might just be my own version of the Bad Art Collection, except I'm not willing to make more than one chapter. Anyway, try to enjoy reading!

**Disclaimer:** Hey... I think I own all these characters!

swisharoo

It was a cloudy November day in San Jose. Gerald walked into the bathroom to find his lover tied up in the bathtub. She was dead and bloated. The ropes were all bloody and frayed, like she struggled. Her black hair was tangly. The duct tape over her mouth was bloody too. Drips of water fell from the faucet, leading thick blood towards the drain.

Gerald screamed.

His maid ran to him. She screamed too. They called the police, but before they could come Gerald found his other maid dead too. She was strangled with her own apron and hung from a rafter in the three-car garage. Gerald only went in the garage to get a hammer to protect himself with.

Gerald walked into the front yard because he heard something loud. The police officer was dead in his front lawn. Someone shot him in the middle of the forehead. The splattered headmeats from the back of his head were spilling out onto the freshly cut grass. His eyes were looking two different ways. Gerald screamed again and got in his white limo. He drove downtown to a hotel. He stayed in a room with a white bed. He called for room service at midnight because his voices wanted coffee. Gerald drank the coffee, facing the window, then turned around. The server was dripping blood all over the white bed. He had a pike stuck up under his jaw, pointing towards the back of his head. Gerald screamed and went back to his own neighborhood immediately, but instead stopping at his friend's house. His friend's name was Sandy but it was a boy. Sandy was mad when Gerald rang the doorbell this late at night but let him stay.

They talked a while about the stock market, then Sandy had to go to the bathroom. Gerald stayed on the sofa. The sofa was all soft and cushiony, with flowers on the fabric. Gerald didn't like tulips but liked the couch. Sometimes his voices said Sandy was transsexual. Then Gerald had to go to the bathroom. He met Sandy on the way to the bathroom and when Gerald came out, Sandy was dead in the hallway. There was a long sword thrust up his ribcage at a 78 degree angle and a machete in his right eye socket. The machete was stuck halfway and the blood spilling out of the sliced eyeball was disgusting. Gerald screamed and ran out of the house. His voices told him to go to a therapist. But it was still nighttime. So he slept in Sandy's backyard.

When he woke up, there was a dead raccoon next to him, decapitated. Gerald just gasped and walked very fast back to his car. He drove to a drive-thru for breakfast. When he got to the pay window, people inside the restaurant were screaming, "The drive-thru guy is dead!" He threw the exact change into the window and drove off with the food. Then he continued to go to a therapist to make an appointment.

They had some time open when he got there so a lady took him to the little shrink room. The walls were all pink and had fuzzy bunnies dancing all around. A fat man was sitting in a leather chair, waiting for him.

"How can I help you?" the man asked.

"Everywhere I go, people... people keep getting murdered and I don't know why. It's really scary. I've screamed like twelve times since yesterday," said Gerald.

"That's too bad. It always sucks when you're dealing with grief. In these dangerous times, you need to be careful. Are you sure you're okay?" the man asked.

Gerald sighed. "Maybe. But it's not grief because I'm too scared of dying myself. I think someone is following me, killing everyone but me," said Gerald.

"Who has died so far?" the man asked.

Gerald counted on his fingers. "My lover, two maids, a police officer, a worker at a hotel, a transsexual, a raccoon, and a drive-thru guy," said Gerald.

"Are you sure?" the man asked. Gerald started getting mad.

Gerald got so mad he took off his jacket to start a fight. But when the jacket fell on the floor both men saw it was full of knives and guns. They both screamed.

So Gerald was put in a strait jacket and sent off to the nuthouse. No one else died, except Gerald, whose voices told him to kill himself with celery.

swish-ity-swish

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry you had to endure that. Johnny's fifth-grade teacher caught herpes from it. You'd better get checked out. But while you're just sitting there, you might as well review first. You still have some time.


End file.
